


initium aliquid novi

by freckledshoulderblades



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, M/M, here you go!, i just had a lot of feelings about sam drake post u4 and uhhh, might write more about this man if i get the inspiration, reader gender is ambiguous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledshoulderblades/pseuds/freckledshoulderblades
Summary: There’s something to be said about the way the man at the bar has caught your eye tonight - wiry frame and solid, calloused hands wrapped around the local brewery’s ale. He’s been glancing over the patrons for quite some time, and you reason he’s there to meet someone - he’s far too jumpy just to pick up a partner.You can work with that. You’re here for someone tonight as well, and if the scrapes and bruises the man has are anything to go by, it might be the same person.





	initium aliquid novi

There’s something to be said about the way the man at the bar has caught your eye tonight - wiry frame and solid, calloused hands wrapped around the local brewery’s ale. He’s been glancing over the patrons for quite some time, and you reason he’s there to meet someone - he’s far too jumpy just to pick up a partner.

You can work with that. You’re here for someone tonight as well, and if the scrapes and bruises the man has are anything to go by, it might be the same person.

It’s easy to keep an eye on him, as well. He’s not exactly being subtle, with how he’s glancing over at the door every few minutes and running a hand through his artfully windswept brown hair.

Your phone buzzes. The client is here.

An older man steps through the door, straightening his leather jacket emblazoned with patches and relics from his past. A military man, obviously, with the poise and gaze to match, hair grayed and cigar dangling from his lips.

He notes you, off in the corner, and catches the eye of the man at the bar.

The man stands up straight, setting his ale down and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Hey, are you, uh…” he begins, and you hear a slight accent filtering through the broken Portugese.

The client nods, holding up a finger momentarily, and beckons you to join the conversation. You sigh - so much for the element of surprise, then. Making your way over to the bar, you catch the tail end of the man’s smile fading into outright annoyance.

“Samuel, this is the other half of the expedition.” The client gestures at you, motioning with his other hand at the bartender. The young woman behind the counter nods and begins to pour him a glass of whiskey.

Samuel gives you a lengthy once over and you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks - be it from embarrassment or excitement, you can’t tell. His annoyance fades into a cocky grin, and he holds out his hand to shake. “Samuel Drake, call me Sam.”

You take it, matching his smile. “You can call me Kingfisher.”

He ducks to press a light kiss to your hand. The client groans.

“Every time, Sam?”

Sam winks at the client, settling easily against the bar once more.

The three of you talk for some time - a treasure off the coast of Chile, a ship having sunk a few hundred years previous, an air of mystery about the whole thing. There’s the feeling of excitement rising, the air thick with the desire to _begin_ , to _find_ , to _take_ -

And then Sam looks at you with hooded eyes, bites his lip -

The client stands with a jarring screech of wood on wood and the two of you jump away from each other - you hadn’t even noticed how close you’d gotten. Sam’s on his feet a heartbeat later, holding out his hand for the client to shake.

“I’ll take care of this, Sully.”

Sully fixes him with a deadpan stare and jerks his head in your direction. “That’s not the part I’m worried about, dumbass.”

Sam waves him off with a smile, returning to his vigil at the bar with a new ale in hand.

“So,” he starts, “how long have you been in the business?”

“About ten years.” You lie, nursing your own harder liquor.

He hums, grins a little like he’s caught your falsehood. “You, uh, staying around here?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Just so I know what time I should expect you tomorrow.” He quickly amends. You’re starting to grow accustomed to the ever present grin, how the corners of his mouth quirk up in a crooked smile, and it makes your heart beat a little faster every time he shifts closer to you.

“Well, I’ve got a simple remedy for that,” You place your hand over his, cupping the neck of his ale and gently pulling it to your mouth. He watches the line of your throat as you drink, eyes darkening.

You place the ale back on the counter and stand into his space, lips only inches from his. “Motel on the east side. I’ll race you there, darling.”

With a wink, you’re bolting out the back door and making your way down the alleyway as quick as you can. You, however, don’t make it more than twenty steps before Sam pushes you up against the brick of the alley wall, hands pinning you in place.

“Little impatient, are you?” you quip, and he smiles devilishly. Heat pools in your stomach when he skirts a hand down your side, resting lightly at the hem of your pants.

“Who wouldn’t be,” he breathes, and tilts your head up gently to meet your lips with his.

There’s a hunger, a desire, but really more of a starvation as he’s pressing against you hard, his body far more toned than you’d even hoped for, his teeth nipping at your lips and the brick of the wall behind you digging uncomfortably into your neck. One hand remains at your side, rubbing circles where skin meets fabric, and the other rests behind your neck, squeezing in a way that makes your breath catch. He stops, pauses for a moment to breathe and apologize lowly - something that is made far more difficult to believe with the way his hips are grinding down on your own.

Your hands fumble with his belt and you groan when you can’t find enough purchase to release it, but he merely pins your hands above you on the wall and leans in for a quick series of taunting kisses down your neck.

“Now who’s impatient?” he asks, and you strain against his grasp in response, mouth pouting. Sam’s mouth parts and he shifts his hold on you to one hand, thumbing at your lips and jaw with the other.

“God _damn_ , what a pretty mouth.” he wonders aloud, and you moan a little as you take in his thumb, sucking and swirling your tongue around the pad of the digit. The taste has a tang you didn’t quite expect, and you nip lightly at him as he continues to grind against you, impossibly slow.

His grip loosens and you take the opportunity to gain the advantage and pin him against the wall in turn. Sam’s cocky smile returns as he looks down on you, eyes hooded.

“What now, huh?” he teases. You take a moment and run a finger along the tattoos on his neck, pressing in a little harder than necessary and causing him to hiss.

It’s easy to lean in, breath dancing across his lips - but easier still to whisper, “Motel. East side.” and pull away from him, vaulting yourself up and over the separation fence to your right.

You hear him groan in frustration, even as you put even more distance between you, and revel in the chase.

 

 

Morning comes, and with it comes Sully, banging unceremoniously on the motel door. You awaken in tangled sheets, satisfyingly sore, and Sam grumbles himself awake at your side.

“I know you’re both in there, now get the hell out!”

A few minutes pass of awkward dancing around each other as you and Sam attempt to find your respective clothes, shrugging them on and checking to make sure guns and equipment are at the ready.

You open the door to a disgruntled Sully, who waits for you to step aside before barging in and giving Sam a Look. Sam catches your eye and grins.

“Alright, lovebirds. Chile isn’t gonna wait for us, and I had to pay your damn tabs this morning.” Sully throws a duffel bag at Sam, who catches it with a grunt. “I had to pack your damn bags too, once I realized you weren’t going back to the other motel.”

Sam takes a second to rifle through his bag, nodding once he’s finished. You do the same and moments later, the three of you exit the room, supplies in tow.

Sully goes ahead to the car as you pay for the room, Sam pulling you off to the side once you’ve finished.

“I’m, ah. We should, maybe, do that again sometime?”

For all his talk, he seems incredibly bashful in this moment, and you pat him lightly on the cheek.

“Maybe when we find that treasure, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey i.....really love sam drake  
> i know he's a dumbass and he really needs to sort out his priorities, but i also think he's an incredibly well rounded character and the interactions he has with nate are *chef's kiss*  
> comments are super welcome and i hope you liked this <3


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